It's been five years since my last post - yet a few of you still float by, checking out the goods. So, I write this half begging for...

I couldn't stay mad at Sam. Just talking to him again made his whole absence - notably legging it from Liverpool Street...

Dumbfounded and (momentarily) desperate I did something stupid...

This time it was me putting in the miles upon the train, abusing my credit card (again) as I travelled home to Scotland...

Sat there, internally frantic at Aidan’s prompt and perky reply was a revisited kind of anxiety – but I don’t recall it being butterflies...

I must have paced a steady 10k in that Premier Inn box overlooking the city. It had been three hours...

I could feel his eyes on me. They were burning a hole in my fine knit pink sweater and making me flush, over heat with heart-eyed emojis...

The dread on my face walking into work that Tuesday morning after my romantic venture, (not). They were going to ask...

It wasn’t even a Facebook friend request. Facebook at least facilitates stalking of someone’s timeline...

Sam was a stand-up guy. Not the type that performs amateur comedy sketches you confidently show off at friends parties...

This is the lies people tell you when you’re 28 and come out the other side (a decade Ffs) of failed and bailed relationships...

I’m not famous, not even a comedian or reality star. I only have 725 followers on Instagram, 3 of which will ditch me by the morning...